


Hurry Up And Wait

by rain_sleet_snow



Series: My Family (And Other Dinosaurs) [44]
Category: Primeval
Genre: F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-01
Updated: 2009-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 00:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3270743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just the start of the collateral damage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurry Up And Wait

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during Sparks Fly Upwards, but should be fairly self-explanatory so long as you have a one-sentence grasp of SFU’s plot (in a single phrase: Helen kidnaps Lester’s daughter Liz.) It focusses on some of the important people I couldn’t wedge into the main story without blowing it further out of proportion, and Luka kindly beta’d it for me. Fred, of course, owns Ralph Lester, Julia Denton, and Julia’s spouse (as well as Julia’s wayward son, but I think that’s pretty well known by now!) References Endgame.

**0 days, 6 hours, 23 minutes**

 

            “Ouch! _Ouch_! Bloody buggering _fuck_!” Theo Lester yelled, shoving his hand under the cold tap. His dog started barking, and his wife looked up from her marking, startled.

 

            “What on earth?” Alison demanded.

 

            “I burned my hand,” Theo said sulkily. “Fucking roast potatoes.”

 

            “You burned your hand with fat?” Alison said in tones of alarm, getting up.

 

            “It’s tiny,” Theo said defensively, “but it hurts. Can you take the potatoes out? Maybe with a proper oven glove, not a towel?”

 

            “You are the most accident-prone doctor I’ve ever met,” Alison informed him, and moved the offending potatoes, gently nudging Spot the dog out of the way as he tried to investigate the open oven and the roast chicken therein.

 

            “Am not either,” Theo said. “You just know me much too well.”

 

            “Well, you’re the sucker who proposed to me.” The phone went off, and Alison grabbed it and put it to her ear. “Hello?”

 

            “Hi, Alison,” James Lester said.

 

            Alison, who hadn’t expected to hear from her brother-in-law, blinked in surprise. “Hi Jim. To what do we owe the pleasure?”  


            There was a long pause, and James took a deep breath. “It’s not good news.”

 

            Alison and Theo’s nephew Jamie, thirteen years old and much beloved, had died in their garden. The call that preceded his arrival, and then final departure, had been spoken in much the same tone of voice – and in almost identical words. Alison’s heart plummeted. “Oh my God, what - ? Not Liz. Nicky? Or Jon, is Jon hurt?”

 

            _Is Jon dead?_ , she didn’t want to say. Her greenish eyes darted sideways to catch Theo’s serious blue ones, the only sound in their kitchen now the running water.

 

            “Nicky and Jon are safe,” James said heavily. “Liz was kidnapped this morning.”

 

            “ _What_!” Alison shrieked.

 

            “Out of Battersea Park, while she was out running,” James continued. “She put up a good fight, but it wasn’t any good. We’re looking for her now.”

 

            “Do you know who has her? Where? _Why_?”

 

            “We think it’s connected to my work.” James’s voice was leaden.

 

            “Oh, God. Oh, _God_. Jim, it’s not your –”

 

            “I know.”

 

            Alison had known James Lester for two decades, and she’d been his friend before she’d been his brother’s girlfriend, partner, fiancée or wife. She’d heard that note in his voice before, and knew it meant that she should stop and choose another conversational path. Without telling James, she put the phone on speaker.

 

            “Listen, Alison,” James said. “I need you and Theo to look after yourselves. There’s a chance – a very slim chance, but a chance – that the woman responsible might come after you, too. You might notice the police around a little more. They should stop in and have a word every day or two, just to make sure. If you notice anything unusual, anything at all, you should call me at once, or my office, if you can’t get me –” He gave a number. “That number will be manned twenty-four/seven, but in office hours you’ll get my PA, Lorraine Wickes. Just give your names. She knows who you are.”

 

            “Okay,” Alison said, rather dazed, scribbling  down the number. “Okay, Jim, we’ll do that.”

 

            “If you meet a woman called Helen Cutter,” James said, “she’s medium-height, with short brown hair, very – er, womanly figure which she usually makes a point of showing off…”

 

            “Why are you telling _me_ this?” Alison teased, covering her confusion and anxiety.

 

            “Because I can hear you’ve put the phone on speaker, and Helen’s been known to use sex to try to get what she wants. Theo may be oblivious and devoted, but even he would register her advances.”

 

            “Oh, thank you,” Theo said.

 

            “She usually dresses and acts like an older Lara Croft,” James persisted. “She is very, very dangerous, and very, very volatile. If you see her, or hear that someone like her has been enquiring for you, then I want you to go to this address.” He reeled off an address, and Alison scribbled it down. “Just get in the car and drive, do you understand? This woman and her followers took Liz from a public park in broad daylight. Don’t take _any_ risks.”

 

            Alison shared an unnerved glance with Theo. “Yes, of course. Er – how’s Kathy… taking it?”

 

            “As well as can be expected,” James said, sounding tired. “She was absolutely furious, but she’s calmed down a little now, since she’s decided I’m not to blame for letting our daughter out of doors. She’s out to kill Helen instead. I don’t think she and Jon have ever agreed on anything before, but they certainly agree on that.”

 

            Alison managed a laugh. “There’s a milestone for you.”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            Theo made phone gestures.

 

            “Do you want to talk to Theo?” Alison said, obedient to suggestion.

 

            There was a pause, and then James said reluctantly, “Not right now. I have the Minister on the other line, I’m afraid.”

 

            “Later,” Theo said loudly. “Call me later. I’ll keep my phone on.”

 

            There was a pause. “Thank you,” James said. Alison could hear conscious control in his voice. “I will. Later.”

 

            “Jim,” she said quickly. “This isn’t your fault. Do you understand? _This isn’t your fault_.”    

            James put the phone down without answering.

 

**3 days, 0 hours, 57 minutes**

 

            Julia Denton almost fell off her chair when she read the caller ID on her phone, causing her husband a certain amount of innocent amusement. Her son _never_ voluntarily phoned her. Short emails, sometimes. Long lunches, sometimes. Submission to interrogations on the phone, approximately once a year when she felt in need of entertainment. It didn’t bother her; she loved him dearly regardless of where he was and what he was doing, always knew if he was safe or not, and didn’t want to know the finer details of everything he was up to. The line between laughing at them and crying at them was too thin.

 

            The text that had told her, two days ago, that Liz had disappeared had been a terse one. She hadn’t heard from Jon since; there’d been a brief phone call from Lester’s secretary, who combined clarity of voice and words with classic stonewalling whenever Julia tried to get beyond the message the woman had been charged with delivering, but that had been it. Miss Wickes had unbent so far as to assure her that Jon was physically unharmed and rational, though distressed. Julia could have told her that much herself. But she’d heard nothing from Jon, and knowing that James Lester would be his first concern she hadn’t cared to interfere.

 

            And Liz, of course, would be joint first with her father. Julia wasn’t sure if Jon knew how much like a parent he became around that girl, but she was reasonably certain that Liz was the closest she was ever likely to get to a granddaughter.

 

            Hell of a granddaughter, Julia thought with a spark of admiration for the bright, sharp girl she’d met only last year and taken to almost instantly, and put her phone to her ear.

 

            “Now I know how you feel,” Jon said without preamble.

 

            “How are the thumbs?” Julia said, equally blunt.

 

            Henry leaned forward and poured her another cup of coffee. She gave him a grateful nod and downed it in one.

 

            “Itching all the fucking time. Ditzy’ll be treating me for fucking eczema next.”

            “Language, darling boy,” Julia murmured, with more sympathy than reproach in her tone. “Heard anything?”

 

            “No. Nothing at all. Not a _fucking_ word.” Fury boiled over in his voice.

 

            “Where’s James?”

 

            “Talking to Emily. A friend of his. And she’s Liz’s girlfriend’s mother, too. Juliet’s mother.”

 

            “I remember Juliet.” She did: a sprite of a girl, small and blonde and perfectly in control. “Is she holding up?”

 

            “Juliet? Yes, for a given definition of holding up. I know dancers train all the time, but I haven’t seen her out of her ballet kit since the day Liz vanished, she’s stopped talking, and if she’s eating properly I’m a monkey’s uncle. I’m this close to handing her over to Ditzy’s girlfriend and the Major’s wife, get them to sort her out.”

 

            “She’s a second-order problem,” Julia said ruthlessly. “She has a mother to worry about her.”

 

            “She won’t be a second-order problem if Liz gets back to find her girlfriend in a state of collapse. We’ll all be toast if that happens.”

 

            Julia waited, and poured herself another cup of coffee while she was at it. She very much doubted that the welfare of one self-possessed teenager was driving Jon to the depths of frustration she heard in his voice.

 

            After a long pause, Jon huffed a sigh. “There’s nothing I can fucking _do_. About any of it. It’s all somebody else’s problem, right now. There are no doors for me to kick down or blow up.”

 

            “I’m sorry, Jon,” Julia said, with unaccustomed gentleness. “You just have to wait.”

 

            “I fucking hate waiting,” Jon grumbled.

 

            “It’ll be character-building. You might learn some patience. Maybe Liz will have to spend less time swiping at you with baking trays when you’re after her cooking, or James can be allowed to finish his nightcap every now and then.”

 

            “Helpful, Mother.”

 

            “Were you expecting wisdom?” Julia finished the latest cup of coffee. She toyed with the cup itself, running her finger around the rim. “And if so, why?”

 

            “I wasn’t.” There was a noise as of Jon putting the kettle on. “I was… I don’t know why I called.”

 

            “Well, feel free to do so at any time.” Julia kept her voice light, and reached for the cafetière again, but it had migrated across to the other end of the breakfast table and Henry was suspiciously deeply buried in his newspaper. She raised one middle finger at him, and his copy of _The Times_ inched higher. “You know how entertaining I find your attempts at civilised conversation.”

 

            That got something of a chuckle. “Well, you know where I got it from, don’t you?”

 

            “Only too well.”

 

            She heard Jon talking to James, and then he came back on the line to talk to her. “Mother?”

 

            “Yes?”

 

            “I need to go.” There was an infinitesimal pause. “Thanks.”

 

            “Of course,” Julia said, and the warmth in her voice made it _you’re welcome_ , too. “Give my love to James.”

 

            “ _Mine_ , Mother. Paws off.”

 

            “Have it your own way. Good-bye, brat.”

 

            “Good-bye, hag.”

 

            Julia put the phone down, and regarded her husband, who deigned to lower his newspaper. “You moved the cafetière.”

 

            “It was empty,” Henry said, without committing himself one way or the other. “If Liz isn’t back by the weekend, we should buy some decaf.”

 

            “Rubbish,” Julia said severely, and got up to make another pot.

 

**9 days, 6 hours, 10 minutes**

 

            Ralph Lester was the last to hear about his niece’s kidnapping, chiefly because he was halfway down a mine in Colombia, indulgently foiling an attempt to take him hostage. Having delivered the evildoers to the authorities, assured the embassy that he was still alive and kicking and no longer in need of consular assistance, and piled himself neatly into a business class seat for the long-haul flight and turned up on his brother’s doorstep with spare key in hand, he was surprised to find both his brother and his technically-brother-in-law at home, and said so.

 

            “Where the hell have you been?” James said, unusually sharply for Ralph’s very favourite little brother. 

 

            “Colombia,” Ralph said cheerily, and favoured James with a summary of his activities for the past three months.

 

            He didn’t get the reaction he wanted; James’ eyebrows merely flickered. Ralph’s eyes flicked to Jon, who looked unaccustomedly serious, although a small smile had touched his mouth at points during Ralph’s story.

 

            “Kettle’s on,” Jon said. “Coffee?”

 

            “Please.”

 

            “And I take it you’d like a shower,” James added.

 

            Ralph took that to mean that James would like him to take a shower. “Is something wrong?”

 

            A phone rang at the other end of the flat, and James’ attention switched instantly. “I need to get that. Sorry, Ralph.”

 

            Ralph watched James go and turned to look enquiringly at Jon, who removed his phone from his pocket and set it casually on the breakfast bar. “What the fuck’s going on here, Jon? What have I missed?”

 

            “Liz has been kidnapped,” Jon said, flat and grim.

 

            Ralph swore furiously. “When?”

 

            “A bit over a week ago.” The kettle boiled. Jon made three cups of coffee and passed Ralph one. “She was attacked while out on her run, subdued and dragged off. She managed to stab someone in the process.”

 

            “That’s my girl,” Ralph said, reflexively proud. “Who took her? Who the fuck would dare? And why? She’s just a _kid_ –”

 

            “She’s James’ kid,” Jon said quietly.

 

            Ralph stopped in his tracks. He didn’t know what his brother did, and was sure that he didn’t want to know. But if Liz had got dragged into it… _How_ had Liz got dragged into it? James gave his daughter a deceptive amount of freedom, but the boundaries they had set by mutual agreement were rock-solid, and Ralph was sure James would not willingly have allowed his sixteen-year-old daughter to become mixed up in his work. “So that’s what this is about? You’re sure?”

 

            “The kidnapper left a note.”

 

            James stormed back into the central room of the flat. “Jon, did you call my phone for no reason again? I’ve asked you _not to do that_ –”

           

            “Must’ve dialled by accident,” Jon said innocently. He wouldn’t have fooled a day-old kitten.

 

            “You’ve done it six times in the last two days!”

 

            “Maybe I should take your number off speed-dial.”

 

            Ralph blinked. Jon was always a good foil for James, but he seldom had to beat off James’ bad temper rather than his sarcasm; James’ voice was taking on a sour note Ralph hadn’t heard for a long time, and it made him profoundly nervous. “Jim?”

 

            Lester folded. “I’m sorry. I just – Liz has been gone nine days.”

 

            _Nine days_. Ralph wouldn’t have cared to bet on whether or not James could give him the exact hour, minute and second too. He could hear the aching knowledge of every last millisecond in his brother’s voice.

 

            Ralph dropped his carry-on bag and enveloped James in a hug.

 

            James curled into the embrace, burying his head in his brother’s shoulder.

 

            “Is she alive?” Ralph said harshly.

 

            “The woman who took her has every reason to keep her alive,” Jon said neutrally. “There have been no ransom demands. We assume she wants Liz for herself.”

 

            Ralph suppressed a wince at the very idea. “No contact at all?” he said, meeting Jon’s eyes over James’ shoulder.

 

            “None,” Jon confirmed.

 

            _If she’d killed Liz, she’d gloat_ , were Jon’s unspoken words. And Ralph knew he wasn’t the only one who could hear them.

 

            James’ fingers bit into Ralph’s flesh through his clothes. Ralph ruffled his brother’s hair gently, as if James were a sulky, scared and defensive teenager again.

 

            “Liz will come back to you,” he said. “You know nothing on earth could keep her away.”

 

            He wished he could make James believe him.

 

            He wished he believed himself.

 

**13 days, 7 hours, 4 minutes**

 

            “Who are you talking to?”

 

            Nicky Burke’s voice was going to sound a lot like his father’s one day, Lyle thought. When he wasn’t a frightened, sulky thirteen-year-old. He ended his phone call in his own time and turned to look at the boy. “A colleague.”

 

            Nicky walked forward to join him, where he was standing on the grass of Alison and Theo’s garden. “Is Dad angry with Mum?”

 

            “No,” Lyle said. “He was just frightened.”

 

            Anyone would have been, he didn’t say to Nicky. Helen’s sudden appearance when Nicky was out walking his grandmother’s dog alone, and her words to him, would rattle anyone. Nicky had come closer to death than he knew; if the raptors that had come through the same anomaly as Helen hadn’t found prey elsewhere he might not have escaped. Helen’s role in the raptors’ arrival and her reasons for letting Nicky know who she was were subjects Lyle was very interested in – nearly as interested as he was in Liz’s whereabouts. Liz loved her youngest brother; she would never have allowed Helen to put him in danger.

 

            James had been furious, of course, but more with Helen than with Kathy, who had gone to answer a phone call of her own and had not been present when her mother had ordered Nicky out of the house to walk the dog. James’ former mother-in-law had got a nasty shock when her daughter had come back to the sitting room, realised what had happened, and raised merry hell. Kathy worked quickly: the anomaly team had been made aware that James Lester’s son was loose in the same area as the anomaly they’d already been called out to before they’d even managed to get into their cars.  Kathy and James had only shouted at each other a little, really. Five minutes of establishing that nobody but Kathy’s mother and Helen was in any way at fault, and that had been it. Except that now Kathy was crying all over James’ bespoke shirt, and Lyle had never seen such a hideously awkward scene before, so he’d stepped out in the garden to have a word with Stringer. Maybe they’d have found Helen. (They hadn’t; she’d vanished without trace again, and there were no signs of Liz.)

 

            “Do you love her?”

 

            Startled, Lyle looked down at Nicky. He was crouched on the ground, absently playing with Spot, and his blue eyes were opaque. “Your sister?”

 

            “Liz, yeah.”

 

            Lyle hesitated.

 

            “I won’t tell Mum.”

 

            Lyle felt his lips twitch. “Sharp, aren’t you? Yes. Like she was my own daughter.”

 

            Nicky sat down on the ground, and dragged Spot half into his lap, for which he got a sloppy lick on the cheek. It only added to his general air of dishevelment, in which he resembled Ralph more than anyone else; Kathy, Liz and James were always as neat as pins.  “So you’d do anything to find her?”

 

            Lyle nodded. It was true.

 

            Nicky was silent for a long moment, tousled brown head bent over Spot, and then he looked up, staring straight across the garden. “Where I’m sitting now,” he said, “that’s where Jamie died. Exactly where. Liz was sitting on the floor and holding him, right here.”

 

            Lyle waited for clarification. Nicky was breathing deeply, but it was controlled and careful, not rushed or hitching. He was a musician, Lyle remembered: voice and piano and guitar. 

 

            “I used to have two siblings. Now I have one. I don’t want to have zero.” Nicky squinted up at Lyle. “I don’t like you,” he said with shattering frankness.

 

            “Thanks a lot,” Lyle said evenly.

 

            “Nobody said I had to,” Nicky continued, ignoring him. “But there’s nothing wrong with you, either. I just don’t like you as much as Liz does, ’s all. Nobody said I had to.” He gave Lyle an obstinate look. “But Liz loves you like you’re her dad. And you love her. And you’ll get her back, right? Because I want my sister back. I want to have a big sister again. I don’t want to be alone. And you love her. So you’ll bring her back. I can trust you to do that, right?”

 

            “You can trust me to try,” Lyle said. “I won’t make you any promises I might not be able to keep. But if Liz is still alive anywhere in the world, then yes. I’ll bring her back.”

 

            Nicky gave him an assessing look, then nodded, and stood. He whistled to the dog, and went inside.

 

            _You’ll get her back, right?,_ the memory of Nicky repeated in Lyle’s mind, truculent and stubborn, and so much like Liz, so much like James, so much like Kathy. Lyle hadn’t wanted to say that it was all about luck now, both Liz’s luck and his own. Liz would need to be lucky to live. He would need to be lucky to find her again. He thought that Nicky had probably already guessed that much.

 

            Lyle wondered if Liz knew how much her little brother loved her.

 

 

**20 days, 9 hours, 2 minutes**

 

            Kathy wrapped her arms around herself and stared without seeing into the back garden of the Fulham house. She could hear Lyle, Nicky and two of Nicky’s friends crashing about, playing on the Wii, but James’ presence – though she felt it every second - was inaudible. She supposed he found it hard not to move gingerly around the house they had shared as husband and wife. She had got used to the memories’ bitter sting a long time ago.

 

            She heard footsteps approaching, but didn’t turn until James tapped delicately on the kitchen door. When she did turn, she didn’t speak.

 

            “May I join you?” James said, polite and formal.

 

            She nodded.

 

            He came and stood beside her, leaning against the kitchen table.

 

            “The kettle’s just boiled,” she volunteered after a while. “I was making tea.”

 

            He looked at her.

 

            “I…” She shrugged one shoulder and gave up on her sentence.

 

            James nodded, and went and made two cups of tea, one just the way he didn’t like it, and one just the way she used to like it. He wouldn’t know, naturally, that since they’d divorced she’d taken to drinking her tea with enough sugar to stun a horse. She needed the energy and the sweet comfort of something that tasted like the end of her schooldays, the long slog of exam revision, a time when adventure was just around the corner instead of in ruins about her feet.

 

            James hated tea. Kathy said so.

           

            He shrugged with both shoulders, but the sentiment was identical.

 

            “I’m sorry,” Kathy said, after a long pause.

 

            “What?”

 

            “I haven’t been a bad mother. I wasn’t a bad wife. But as a – a co-parent, I have… a lot to answer for.”

 

            James half-smiled, and rested his hand over hers on the table, squeezing briefly. “I daresay we’ve both had our moments.”

 

            Kathy winced. “Mine were more dramatic than yours. I… think I might just be an angrier person than you, really. Like Liz.” The mention of her missing daughter’s name hurt, and she flinched again. Liz, fast and clever and sharp, and always out of reach of Kathy’s understanding.

 

            “I think I might just be better about hiding it than either of you.” James set the tea he disliked on the table and ignored it. “And I have a therapist.”

 

            “Really? Does it help?” The words slipped out before Kathy knew it.

 

            “Yes, with a number of things.”

 

            “Well. I don’t need a therapist to tell me that I haven’t been fair to you. Or to Liz.” Kathy swallowed, knowing she was close to tears. “Oh, my – _Liz_. I don’t care if she wants to throw herself away on a girl who loves – dancing, and fame, and spectacle better than she does anything else. I don’t care if she wants to join the army, although God knows I should. She can do as she likes – if she’ll just come _home_.”

 

            “We’re doing everything we can.” James’ famous composure was shaken at last. “Although, for the record, Liz’s career plans remain a complete unknown and I consider that to be a gross mischaracterisation of Juliet –”

 

            “It’s not,” Kathy said sharply. “Ballet is the only thing she ever talks about.”

 

            “No, Kathy, ballet is the only thing she ever talks about around you. Emily does the same. Retreats to her conversational high ground when faced with an adversary.”

 

            Kathy swallowed instant resentment of laughing, fun-loving Emily Sayers and her unshakable ice-maiden daughter. “Well. Just so long as Juliet knows how lucky she is.”

 

            James shifted, began to look a little annoyed. “You know, Kathy, I can’t understand how you’ve moved so quickly from denial of Liz’s romantic adventures to such a firm conviction that Juliet isn’t good enough for our daughter.”

 

            “I know what you look like when you’re in love,” Kathy said heavily, and saw James blink hard. “I saw the same expression on Liz’s face. The more I think about it, the more I realise I’ve been seeing it there for a long time.”

 

            James’ face softened, and he nodded. There was another long pause.

 

            “You would tell me,” Kathy said abruptly. “If you found her. If you found anything.”

 

            “Yes,” James said.

 

            For the first time in a very long time, she believed him.


End file.
